Gray Pancakes And The Gentleman's Hat

by Marc Maurer

How important is appearance? More than most people think. As
readers of the Kernel Book series know, Marc Maurer is not only the
President of the National Federation of the Blind but also the
father of two sighted children, David and Dianna. The Maurers, like
others who are blind, keep bumping into the matter of appearances.
Here is what President Maurer has to say about it:

I have been given (along with almost everybody else I've ever met) the advice
that I should not judge a book by its coverthat the intrinsic value of
a thing is more important than its appearanceor that beauty is only skin
deep. The problem with most of the people who have given me this advice is that
they ignored it themselves much of the time. Those who try to live so that they
may disregard the covers of books or the packaging on the outside of a commodity
or the stylish cut of somebody else's clothes, are regarded as crazy and ostracized.

While I was a boy, attending the School for the Blind, I was forcibly made
to realize the difference between the way a thing looks and the way it feels.
The School for the Blind collected blind children from all over the state of
Iowa, and we attended classes together. The boys living in dormitories were
divided by age. The Cottage was a building for the little boysthe kindergartners
and first graders. The second and third graders got to move into one wing of
the boys' dorm. This was a major step in our growing up. When we lived in the
Cottage, we attended classes and ate our meals in the Cottage. The classrooms
and dining room for the small boys were all in the same building.

However, when we got to the second grade, we had begun to be
counted among the bigger boys. We slept in the boys' dormitory, but
we attended classes and ate our meals in the administration
building.

One of the Saturday morning rituals for the boys in the fifth and sixth grades
at the School for the Blind was shoeshining. We did this in the janitor's room.
Each boy was required to have a can of shoe polishcost, ten cents. A dauber,
a shoebrush, and a polishing cloth were provided. I wasn't all warmed up about
the shoeshining assignment because anything that interferes with the enjoyment
of free time on a Saturday for a fifth grader is bothersome. However, I thought
if I got the polishing out of the way, I could go somewhere else; so I started
in with a will.

I soon discovered that polishing shoes has its disadvantages. I daubed the
polish onto the leather, rubbed the shoes with the shoebrush for a time, and
followed up with the polishing cloth. The shoes felt perfectly clean and smooth
to me. I figured that I had finished the job and could go my way. But this was
not the case. The house parent, the master of the shoeshining and general arbiter
of boys' lives, came to inspect. The shoes were not shiny, he said. I was told
to begin again. So, I started once morethis time with extreme care. I
put on more polish, making certain it covered every part of the leather. I rubbed
vigorously with the brush, and then I took up the polishing cloth. I polished
diligently for a time, and I thought that they must certainly be done by now!
But the inspector, the house parent, informed me that I had failed a second
time. I started polishing my shoes for the third time and wondering whether
I would be through polishing before lunch.

After the third try (another failure), the house parent asked
an older boy to show me what to do. He took the polishing cloth and
made a few swift passes over the shoes. Then he said, "See how easy
that is?" I couldn't figure out why his polishing worked but mine
didn't. From the perspective of many years, I have concluded that
the speed of his polishing put the final shine on the shoes. They
felt the same after I had polished them as they had after his
effort. But they didn't look the same, and I understood the
importance of getting them to look right.

The next step was to clean my hands. During the first attempt
at polishing, I had kept my fingers out of the can of polish and
away from the moist surfaces of the shoes. But when my polishing
job was rejected, I decided that my fingers must tell me how much
polish was being applied. My hands carried the unmistakable
evidence; my fingers, my nails, and my knuckles were black. Shoe
polish is intended to be reasonably waterproof. I washed my hands
thoroughly; they felt perfectly clean to me. However, they were
still black, and I was sent back to the basin to wash a second
time. After several sudsings, my hands became clean; and I
understood for the second time that the way a thing feels isn't the
same as the way it looks.

Today, I know that appearance is important. The substance of
a thing is more important, but often we don't explore the substance
unless the initial appearance is attractive.

As readers of the Kernel Books know, my children, David and
Dianna, are sighted. My wife and I are both blind. Much of the time
we do not discuss the subject of blindness or its implications, but
sometimes the difference in approach taken by a blind person from
that of the sighted is significant.

I do much of the cooking for our household. One evening I decided to make
potato pancakes for supper. This requires taking fresh potatoes and grinding
them up before mixing them with flour, salt, and other ingredients to make pancake
batter. When the pancakes are fried crisp and hot (and served with apple sauce,
sour cream, or fruit compote), they are delicious. Most people peel the potatoes
before grinding them up for the batter. However, I thought that I would grind
the potatoes with their skins. Potato skins, I have been told, are very good
for youthey contain all the vitamins and minerals.

Soon I had a nice pile of potato pancakes, crisp and hot. I
called the family to eat them, but my children would not take the
first bite. My wife and I thought the pancakes tasted just right,
but we couldn't tempt the children. When I asked why, David gave me
the answer. My pancakes were gray. Apparently, not peeling the
potatoes before putting them in the pancake batter makes the
pancakes come out gray, and gray pancakes are not very appetizing
in appearance. They tasted great, but they looked awful. So, the
children ate chicken noodle soup, and my wife and I finished the
pancakes. Since that time, I have considered (even if fleetingly)
both the appearance and the flavor of the things I cook.

As I have said earlier, I believe that appearance counts. My
experience tells me that those who are most conservatively dressed
are often taken most seriously. I dress conservatively, wearing
white shirts, black wing tip shoes, and dark suits. A number of
years ago, a friend took me to get a wool top coat. She told me
that the winter coat I had been wearing was not suitable and that
I needed a gentleman's coat. Along with the coat I obtained a pair
of black gloves. However, I was never sure how to complete the
ensemble. What should I wear for a hat?

I grew up in the state of Iowa, which frequently has a cold
winter. As a boy, I was given a jacket with a hood. I disliked the
hood because when I wore it, I had trouble hearing. I used my
hearing to learn about my surroundings and to help me in traveling
with my cane. A stocking cap is much better than a hood. It can be
worn so that it completely covers my ears without interfering with
my ability to hear.

My stocking cap became my good wintertime friend. I did cause
myself trouble with it one time. On a particularly cold day, I
pulled it down over my face. A stranger apparently felt outrage at
my appearance. He said that I looked like a fool, and perhaps I
did. After that, I wore the stocking cap in the customary manner,
and I had no more trouble. However, a stocking cap would not do
with my gentleman's coat.

I went to a hat shop to look at all the hats, and I asked for
lots of advice. I finally selected a black felt Saxon style with a
black band. I was told that it was exactly the right kind of hat to
go with the gentleman's coat. I bought it mostly for style, but I
hope that it also has some practical use as well. I am now learning
about the language of the hat. For example, what does it mean to
"tip" a hat, and when should the "tipping" occur? What other odd
customs are associated with the hat, and how will I come to learn
them?

If the purpose was to keep my head warm, I would go back to
the trusty old stocking cap. But the purpose is to combine a
practical function with the proper appearance.

In the National Federation of the Blind, we are doing what we
can to help blind people become a meaningful, contributing part of
our society. In order to make a contribution, we must learn enough
so that the talent that we possess is useful. However, talent is
not enough. We must also present the appearance of talent, and we
are helping each other gain the proper appearance. Some people
think our method of traveling from place to place with a cane or
dog is odd or that some of the other alternative techniques used by
blind people of performing ordinary tasks are unusual. Because some
of the methods that we use to do ordinary things seem unfamiliar,
some sighted people seem to feel uneasy in the presence of a blind
person. Of course, there is no need to feel this way. Some of what
we do is unconventional, but we have the same hopes and dreams, the
same fears and frustrations, the same willingness to work and
longing to make contributions that others have.

Through the National Federation of the Blind we are focusing
this willingness to work and longing to contribute, and we are
helping the dreams of blind people come true. We will do our best
to remember that the pancakes should not be gray, and we will tip
our hats at the proper time.